


Sanction

by unsettled



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Crying, Dirty Talk, Kinktober, Light Humiliation, M/M, Off Screen Negotiation, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Peter can say the words, but it doesn’t mean Tony is going to listen.Just like Peter wants.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 118
Collections: Starker Festivals Kinktober 2020, Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Sanction

**Author's Note:**

> While this is completely consensual non-con play, the pre scene discussion and aftercare is off-screen. While I feel like there are enough hints throughout, it could probably also read as straight non-con. If there's a chance that could bother you, I'd advise skipping this.

It’s not weird, Peter tells himself. It’s not— it’s not bad. Tony wouldn’t, if it was. He just— he wouldn’t. 

He’s standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the shiny top of the counter, his thoughts spinning. He can almost see his face in it; he looks closer, distracting himself. Trying not to think too hard about what they talked about, what— 

Peter's breath hitches when Tony leans against his back, his arms caging Peter in place. "Hey sweetheart," Tony says, and kisses the side of his neck. Peter licks his lips, nervous all over again.

He's been waiting for Tony.

Tony kisses his neck again, higher, and Peter turns his head away. "Tony," he huffs. Tony laughs and slides a hand up Peter's side, under his shirt.

Peter squirms away from it, coming up against Tony's other arm. "Seriously," Peter says, letting himself sound a little annoyed. "Come on, Tony."

"Oh, so sorry," Tony says. "What, too slow?" and his hand slips down into Peter's pants.

"No," Peter says, catching his hand. "Not now, ok?"

Tony stills. "What?"

"I'm just not really— just not now, Tony," Peter says, his heart in his throat.

There's a moment, a long stretch of silence and stillness that has Peter thinking maybe— maybe Tony isn't going to do this, right now.

Tony shoves him forward, pinning Peter against the counter. "You don't get to tell me 'not now'," he says, flat. Cold.

"Yes I do," Peter snaps. "I just did. What the hell, Tony?"

"You did," Tony says. "And it's just meaningless noise. You don't say no to me, Peter."

Peter shivers up against Tony. "I wasn't," he says. "I just— not _ no,  _ just not now."

"Do you think that's different?" Tony says. "I'll have you whenever the fuck I want you." He laughs, his breath hot against Peter's skin. "I take it back," he adds. "You can say no, sweetheart. You can say it as much as you'd like. I'm just not going to listen."

"Okay, that's enough," Peter says, squirming between Tony and the counter. "This isn't funny, or hot."

Tony pushes him down, face up against the cold marble of the counter. "Hold still," he snaps, and then he's yanking Peter's pants down.

"Wait," Peter says, pushing himself back up, trying to shove Tony back as well. Misjudging a little and actually making Tony stumble back a step; Peter hesitates, and then Tony's hand is on his throat, yanking him back flush against Tony's front.

"I told you to hold still," he says, and it's so sharp, so unlike Tony normally sounds.

"That's not— I don't want to," Peter says. "Tony—"

Tony's hand tightens on his throat. "Does it look like I care?" he snaps, pressing Peter down again. "Now stay there, or I'll make you regret it."

"Tony," Peter whispers, "just— please, wait. I'll—" his words cut off as Tony grabs at his ass, pushing a finger inside him with barely anything to ease it. "Hey!" Peter says, sharply. "That's— Tony, _ stop." _

For a heartbeat, Peter wonders, Tony's hand heavy on the back of his neck. "'Stop' isn't going to save you," Tony says, harsh and low. "Not this time, Peter. Do you understand that?"

Oh god, Peter thinks, he does know that, he did know that, and he still wasn't prepared for how it makes him feel. How his heart is suddenly pounding away, his mouth so dry he can barely swallow— his dick so, so hard. He whimpers.

"Say it all you want, sweetheart," Tony says. "It isn't going to mean a thing."

Peter jerks when Tony's finger pushes in further. "No," Peter says, "no, stop." Twists under Tony's grip, and Tony yanks his finger out, smacking Peter hard across his ass.

"I told you to stay still," Tony says. "It's a good thing you heal so easily." He shoves two fingers back in, nowhere near enough lube or enough stretching and oh, this is going to  _ hurt. _

"No! Tony, stop— stop it!" Peter yelps, and Tony doesn't.

It's like that snaps something in Peter, that moment where Tony doesn't even hesitate at his 'stop', not even for a breath. Peter moans and squirms around on the counter, fighting just hard enough that he can feel Tony working to hold him down. Whispers 'no', over and over in response to Tony's every move, every twist of his fingers and tightening of his hand, when he bites at Peter's shoulder and pushes in another finger and laughs at Peter.

"Don't be such a whiny little bitch," Tony says, and Peter shudders. Tony takes his hand off Peter's neck and has it between Peter's legs in the next second, curled around his dick. "Say whatever you want, but this," and he squeezes, hard, Peter trying to jerk away from it, "tells me exactly how much of a slut you are."

"No," Peter gasps, "no, no— please, please Tony."

"Please?" Tony says. "Please, fuck me already? Is that what you mean?" Peter shakes his head, frantically, but Tony's hand is already gone; Peter can hear the sound of his zipper, can feel, a moment later, Tony's cock sliding along his ass.

"Stop," Peter moans, his hands fisting against the counter. "Please Tony, stop, stop!"

He can hear the wet sound of Tony spitting, and then the head of Tony's cock is pressing up against him. "Go ahead," Tony says, his hands grabbing onto Peter's hips. "Tell me some more lies about how you don't want this."

It hurts when Tony pushes in, hurts enough that Peter can't say anything for a minute, just gasp out these short, whimpering cries. "Yeah," Tony says, "that's right, you little brat. Knew you needed a good hard fucking."

"No," Peter manages to stutter out, right before Tony pulls back out and slams back in, the force of it pushing all Peter's air out. "Stop," he begs, again and again with every thrust; "No," the word turning into a long, drawn out moan, mangled almost beyond recognition.

He feels so helpless like this, Tony fucking him and ignoring him completely, totally uncaring if Peter likes it, if Peter even wants it. Mocking Peter for every attempt to make this stop, for how he fights and what he says, how none of it can be true when Peter's this hard, when Peter feels this good around him.

"Come on, Peter," Tony says, slamming him against the edge of the counter with each thrust. "If you didn't like this, you'd find a way to stop me. You're not helpless. I'm not even holding you down, you stupid cockslut."

Peter shakes his head as much as he can against the counter. "No, no," he says. "Tony, I don't, please, I don't. Please stop, please," and his breath catches on the last word because Tony's dug his fingers hard into Peter's hips. Has tilted them a little more, and that next thrust makes his whole body jolt, that next thrust feels too good. The next sound Peter lets out isn't a no.

The one after that is though, as Tony continues to fuck him just like that, as Peter can feel his balls getting tighter and tighter. "No," he pants, "no, please no," and it doesn't matter, it doesn't make a difference. His body isn't listening to him any more than Tony is.

Tony laughs when Peter comes, fucking him through it, past it without pause. "Told you," he says. "I didn't even have to touch you. Tell me again how much you don't want this."

"I  _ don't," _ Peter whispers, and maybe it's just that it hurts more now, that he's oversensitive now and every thrust is making his poor, tender dick slap up against the counter, but he can feel tears prickling in his eyes. "I don't, Tony. Stop, stop,  _ stop," _ even if it sounds as hopeless as he feels.

He doesn't stop, of course he doesn't, and Peter gives up. Goes limp, letting each smack of Tony's hips push him against the counter, letting himself beg helplessly, letting himself cry and hurt and feel. His words are garbled, probably not making any sense at all, and he lets them fade too, into nothing but harsh, wet gasps as he sobs.

"Are you crying?" Tony asks. "Poor Peter, all in tears because you came? God, you're pathetic," and he reaches forward, his hand fisting in Peter's hair, yanking him up and back. Peter thinks about getting his hands under himself, holding himself up, but in the end he doesn't care. Just lets himself hang from Tony's grip, tears running down his face.

Tony fucks into him and stays there, grinding against him. "Look at me," he says harshly. "Peter, look at me."

He doesn't want to, doesn't want to have see anything or think about anything or do anything at all. He feels so used, filthy and disgusting and helpless, can feel himself starting to harden again and it only makes him cry harder. "No," he whispers, even if there's no use in doing so.

"Look at me," Tony snaps, and Peter looks. Can barely see Tony through the haze of tears in his eyes, the way his eyelashes are sticking together. Tony's hand tightens even more in Peter's hair, enough to make him cry if he wasn't already. "What do you say, Peter?"

Peter shakes his head. It doesn't matter what he says, it doesn't matter. "No," he says. "Please, no."

Tony makes a sound, sort of a growl, and shakes Peter's head. "No, what do you  _ say?" _

There's an edge to it, a different kind then when Tony's calling him filthy names. Peter blinks a little more of the tears away, and Tony is watching him, his brow creased. Oh, Peter thinks, oh— 

"No," Peter says, getting his hands under him. "Stop," he whispers, pushing his ass back against Tony, tightening around him. "Please," he breathes out, looking right at Tony, giving him his best pleading look.

Tony pulls Peter's head to the side and kisses his neck, the edge of his jaw. Bites his ear, just enough to hurt. "Fuck, you're such a sweet little slut," Tony says. "Don't you worry, sweetheart, nothing you do is going to stop me."

Peter whines. Good, he thinks, yes, please.

"No," he says. "No, Tony.  _ No." _


End file.
